Harry Heathcote of Gangoil Part 17

"That's all gone by, my dear," said the wife, feeling that she had to apologize for her husband's prejudices. "Of course one has to find out what people are before one takes them to one's bosom. Mr.

Medlicot has acted in the most friendly way about these fires, and I'm sure Harry will never despise him any more."

"He couldn't have done more for a real brother than have his arm broken."

"But you must remember one thing, Kate, Mr. Medlicot is very nice, and like a gentleman, and all that. Bat you never can be quite certain about any man till he speaks out plainly. Don't set your heart upon him till you are quite sure that he has set his upon you."

"Oh no," said Kate, giving her maidenly a.s.surance when it was so much too late! Just at this moment Mrs. Growler came into the kitchen, and Kate's promises and her sister's cautions were for the moment silenced.

"How we're to manage to get the dinner on the table, I for one don't know at all," said Mrs. Growler. "There's Mr. Bates'll be here; that will be six of 'em; and that Mr. Medlicot will want somebody to do every thing for him, because he's been and got hisself smashed. And there's the old lady has just come out from home, and is as particular as any thing. And Mr. Harry himself never thinks of things at all. One pair of hands, and them very old, can't do every thing for every body." All of which was very well understood to mean nothing at all.

Household deficiencies--and, indeed, all deficiencies--are considerable or insignificant in accordance with the aspirations of those concerned. When a man has a regiment of servants in his dining-room, with beautifully cut gla.s.s, a forest of flowers, and an iceberg in the middle of his table if the weather be hot, his guests will think themselves ill used and badly fed if aught in the banquet be astray. There must not be a rose leaf ruffled; a failure in the attendance, a falling off in a dish, or a fault in the wine is a crime. But the same guests shall be merry as the evening is long with a leg of mutton and whisky toddy, and will change their own plates, and clear their own table, and think nothing wrong, if from the beginning such has been the intention of the giver of the feast. In spite of Mrs. Growler's prognostications, though the cook had absconded, and the chief guest of the occasion could not cut up his own meat, that Christmas dinner at Gangoil was eaten with great satisfaction.

Harry had been so far triumphant. He had stopped the fire that was intended to ruin him, he had beaten off his enemies on their own ground, and he was no longer oppressed by that sense of desolation which had almost overpowered him.

"We'll give one toast, Mrs. Medlicot," he said, when Mrs. Growler and Kate between them had taken away the relics of the plum-pudding. "Our friends at home!"

The poor lady drank the toast with a sob. "That's vera weel for you, Mr. Heathcote. You're young, and will win your way hame, and see auld friends again, nae doubt; but I'll never see ane of them mair, except those I have here." Nevertheless, the old lady ate her dinner and drank her toddy, and made much of the occasion, going in and out to her son upon the veranda.

Soon after dinner Heathcote, as was his wont, strayed out with his prime minister Bates to consult on the dangers which might be supposed still to threaten his kingdom, and Mrs. Heathcote, with her youngest boy in her lap, sat talking to Mrs. Medlicot in the parlor.

Such was not her custom in weather such as this. Kate had been sent out on to the veranda, with special commands to attend to the wants of the sufferer, and Mrs. Heathcote would have followed her had she not remembered her sister's appeal, "I did every thing I could for you."

In those happy days Kate had been very good, and certainly deserved requital for her services. And therefore, when the men had gone out, Mrs. Heathcote, with her guest, remained in the warm room, and went so far as to suggest that at that period of the day the room was preferable to the veranda. Poor Mrs. Medlicot was new to the ways of the bush, and fell into the trap; thus Kate Daly was left alone with her wounded hero.

When told to take him out his gla.s.s of wine, and when conscious that no one followed her, she felt herself to have been guilty of some great sin, and was almost tempted to escape. She had asked her sister for help; and this was the help that was forth-coming--help so palpable, so manifest, as to be almost indelicate! Would he think that plans were being made to catch him, now that he was a captive and impotent? The thought that it was possible that such an idea might occur to him was terrible to her. She would rather lose him altogether than feel the stain of such a suggestion on her own conscience. She put the gla.s.s of wine down on the little table by his side, and then attempted to withdraw.

"Stay a moment with me," he said. "Where are they all?"

"Mary and your mother are inside. Harry and Mr. Bates have gone across to look at the horses."

"I almost feel as though I could walk, too."

"You must not think of it yet, Mr. Medlicot. It seems almost a wonder that you shouldn't have to be in bed, and you with your collar-bone broken only last night! I don't know how you can bear it as you do."

"I shall be so glad I broke it, if one thing will come about."

"What thing?" asked Kate, blushing.

"Kate--may I call you Kate?"

"I don't know," she said.

"You know I love you, do you not? You must know it. Dearest Kate, can you love me and be my wife?" His left arm was bound up, and was in a sling, but he put out his right hand to take hers, if she would give it to him. Kate Daly had never had a lover before, and felt the occasion to be trying. She had no doubt about the matter. If it were only proper for her to declare herself, she could swear with a safe conscience that she loved him better than all the world.

"Put your hand here, Kate," he said.

As the request was not exactly for the gift of her hand, she placed it in his.

"May I keep it now?"

She could only whisper something which was quite inaudible, even to him.

"I shall keep it, and think that you are all my own. Stoop down, Kate, and kiss me, if you love me."

She hesitated for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She did love him, and was his own; still, to stoop and kiss a man who, if such a thing were to be allowed at all, ought certainly to kiss her!

She did not think she could do that. But then she was bound to protect him, wounded and broken as he was, from his own imprudence; and if she did not stoop to him, he would rise to her. She was still in doubt, still standing with her hand in his, half bending over him, but yet half resisting as she bent, when, all suddenly, Harry Heathcote was on the veranda, followed by the two policemen, who had just returned from Boolabong. She was sure that Harry had seen her, and was by no means sure that she had been quick enough in escaping from her lover's hand to have been unnoticed by the policemen also.

She fled away as though guilty, and could hardly recover herself sufficiently to a.s.sist Mrs. Growler in producing the additional dinner which was required.

The two men were quickly sent to their rest, as has been told before; and Harry, who had in truth seen how close to his friend his sister-in-law had been standing, would, had it been possible, have restored the lovers to their old positions; but they were all now on the veranda, and it was impossible. Kate hung back, half in and half out of the sitting-room, and old Mrs. Medlicot had seated herself close to her son. Harry was lying at full length on a rug, and his wife was sitting over him. Then Giles Medlicot, who was not quite contented with the present condition of affairs, made a little speech.

"Mrs. Heathcote," he said, "I have asked your sister to marry me."

"Dearie me, Giles," said Mrs. Medlicot.

Kate remained no longer half in and half out of the parlor, but retreated altogether and hid herself. Harry turned himself over on the rug, and looked up at his wife, claiming infinite credit in that he had foreseen that such a thing might happen.

"And what answer has she given you?" said Mrs. Heathcote.

"She hasn't given me any answer yet. I wonder what you and Heathcote would say about it?"

"What Kate has to say is much more important," replied the discreet sister.

"I should like it of all things," said Harry, jumping up. "It's always best to be open about these things. When you first came here, I didn't like you. You took a bit of my river frontage--not that it does me any great harm--and then I was angry about that scoundrel Nokes."

"I was wrong about Nokes," said Medlicot, "and have, therefore, had my collar-bone broken. As to the land, you'll forgive my having it if Kate will come and live there?"

"By George! I should think so.--Kate, why don't you come out? Come along, my girl. Medlicot has spoken out openly, and you should answer him in the same fashion." So saying, he dragged her forth, and I fear that, as far as she was concerned, something of the sweetness of her courtship was lost by the publicity with which she was forced to confess her love. "Will you go, Kate, and make sugar down at the mill? I have often thought how bad it would be for Mary and me when you were taken away; but we sha'n't mind it so much if we knew that you are to be near us."

"Speak to him, Kate," said Mrs. Heathcote, with her arm round her sister's waist.

"I think she's minded to have him," said Mrs. Medlicot.

"Tell me, Kate--shall it be so?" pleaded the lover.

She came up to him and leaned over him, and whispered one word which n.o.body else heard. But they all knew what the word was. And before they separated for the night she was left alone with him, and he got the kiss for which he was asking when the policemen interrupted them.

"That's what I call a happy Christmas," said Harry, as the party finally parted for the night.